The Bipolar Blogging Mom

My therapist gave me permission this week to live in the mystery of life. This was in reference to some really specific circumstances but I was able to apply it to a grander scale this weekend.

See, this weekend was my oldest son 6th birthday and we celebrated with new friends and our camper out at a local KOA, so to not be too far from home (just in case)! I was reflecting as I laid awake at 12:30 am feeding my littlest why my baby’s infancy is so different and why my oldest felt easier. People tell you the second comes so natural and easy; it’s completely different than your first because you have less anxiety and more overall confidence. Parts of this I’ve found to be true, for example: I have less intense fears of SIDS, I know better car seat safety, and I can tolerate certain cries and know he IS okay and I don’t need to drop everything to comfort him immediately. However, I never experienced this intense depression, missed expectations, mourning of my body and experiences in my life, and just overall feelings of loss and disappointment from my maternity leave and newborn moments. So why is this? I think it’s because my first son I was living in his mystery. I had no idea how to be a mom (other than to a dog)… hell, I didn’t even know how to change a diaper. I had never had major surgery, birth, or intense sleep deprivation. All of it was wondrous and sorta magical like the feeling you have on Christmas Eve. Every experience was new and exciting. It’s not to say I never got mad or short or incredibly zoned out and utterly sad. But I lived in mystery which meant I would wait to see what would happen next with anticipation like a book you can’t put down.

Your second kid, you have expectation and I think sometimes when those don’t pan out the way you think, you can harness feelings of resentment and disappointment. Those toxic “should haves” really take on mental rent in our head space; I should’ve recovered easer, I should know how to calm him down, I should be able to have more parental confidence. And when none of this happened… in fact, things were way less so, I was devastated by a feeling of grief and shame. Shame is probably the utmost diseasing and harmfully consuming wash of mental angst a person can be overcome with, in my opinion. It can lead someone to their death bed in one motion. Shame is what I’ve seen lead many patients, friends/family, and influences in the media go down a path of addiction, mental illness overtake, and even their own loss.

The embarrassment that came over me when someone suggested that I can’t figure this baby out, considering he is my second, made me feel like a complete failure. I expected things to bounce back so much easier and that was so completely unfair for my family especially my sweet little boy joy. He deserves a mom who is ready to greet every new experience of his as a magical mysterious anticipation and my goal is to really harness that going forward. Living in mystery, the notion of it, has really made me feel a sense of freedom. It’s funny how sometimes when someone grants you permission, it can really relieve you of heavy burdens you didn’t know you didn’t need to carry?